


Keep Me

by Dragonpie



Series: Mandorin Fics [5]
Category: The Mandalorian (LadyIrina AU), The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Angry Sex, Blow Jobs, Cum Play, Light Angst, M/M, PWP, Smut, and return of our king, big dick dyn, face fucking, hairpulling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-14
Updated: 2020-08-14
Packaged: 2021-03-05 23:42:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,036
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25903762
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dragonpie/pseuds/Dragonpie
Summary: After two weeks constantly on the run, Corin is exhausted and Dyn is sleep deprived. He’s always been able to fix this before with a quick fuck in some hidden nook, So what makes this time any different?Takes place in the same universe as previous fics, but can be read as a stand-alone.
Relationships: Corin the Stormtrooper (Rescue and Regret)/The Mandalorian (The Mandalorian TV)
Series: Mandorin Fics [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1625140
Comments: 2
Kudos: 76





	Keep Me

**Author's Note:**

> Don’t have a lot to say about this one, mind the TYPOs and be safe out there.

It has been two weeks, and Corin is tired of waiting. Two long weeks on the run; hiding out in rundown villages or flying fast and dangerous to avoid being shot out of space. They’ve been restless and stressed out; the child often refusing to sleep on his own while Dyn outright refuses to sleep at all. 

He’s used to it by now; the perils of travelling with a price on his head. The emotional strain of exhaustion — the heated arguments over nothing with his overtired partner. 

Yes, Corin has been through it all before and had seen it pass by with a sordid fuck in the pilots seat, or in a barely concealed farmhouse on a hick planet. 

Corin has always felt better after a good, hard fuck — and he knew it helped Dyn think clearer. So it was only natural that as days stretched on without a touch — not even a brush of stray fingers against his hip in a promise never to be filled — Corin began to grow anxious. 

And slowly, that anxiety grew into anger. Indignation. Desperation. 

Enough emotion boiled beneath the surface, that Corin finds himself pulling Dyn aside the very first time they’re alone — the child sleeping soundly in their rented room and the hallways empty in their rundown inn. 

“Corin —“ his name is spoken unexpected, a gasp of air leaving Dyns mouth as he’s pinned to the nearest wall. The situation is painfully familiar — no time for a proper bedding; Corin has always made do with what he has. 

“You’re overtired,” he says softly, hands flat against Dyn’s chest, “Let me help you relax.” He doesn’t expect it to be easy. He doesn’t expect to be pushed away. 

“Now isn’t the time.” 

Dyn tries to walk away — to doubt to cause himself further stress over things he can’t change. Corin won’t have it; he reaches out to grab Dyn’s wrist, pulling him back. 

“The child is sleeping. We’re safe here, at least for tonight. It’s okay to take a break.” Dyn actually scoffs, and Corin thinks it must be the lack of sleep.

He approaches in several long steps, backing Corin against the same wall. “This is no time for being irresponsible; one of us has to look after this family.”

“Irresponsible?” The word burns through Corin’s veins, and even backed against a wall he manages to sound angry, “is that what you think?” 

Dyn doesn’t let up for a second; hands pressed firm against the wall on either side of Corin’s head; caging him in. Even behind the visor, the intensity of his stare burns into Corin’s skin. 

“I think you’re feeling neglected — like we aren’t on the run. Like we have time to waste.” Corin scowls, not frightened in the slightest by the harsh tone. The accusations cause the anger in his stomach to boil over and he spits out; 

“You act like this is easy for me — like you’re the only one struggling.” 

“It feels that way sometimes.” 

“Well,” Corin’s tone is challenging, “if you think you’d be better off without me —” And this is it; what Corin wanted to avoid. He doesn’t mean a word of it — knows Dyn doesn’t either — but when they’re angry and exhausted the words come out without thinking first, and they’re both stubborn enough to let a good thing go to waste over nothing. 

“Cyar’ika—” the tone in Dyn’s voice says it all; they’re not too far gone. Not yet. 

Corin smiles; helplessly charmed by the sudden change — the tension in Dyn’s shoulders as his mind races to recover what he’s said and how he can take it back. Corin takes his chance, places a hand flat against Dyn’s armoured chest, eyes turned up to face his own reflection as he speaks; 

“Well where would I go, anyway?” He speaks the words softly, as though his lack of choice is a secret rather than a lie, “what would I do, without you to protect me, and take care of me.” 

Each point is punctuated with a step forward, and Dyn has been entranced, taking his own equal step back.

”You’re right,” Corin’s eyes are downcast, but his lips are turned up at the corners; satisfied when Dyn takes another step back without prompting. “You’d probably be better off without me.” 

“I didn’t say that.” And Corin can almost taste it; the confusion. The guilt that melts slowly into understanding as Corin begins to sink to his knees. 

“Let me make it up to you.” 

He feels Dyn’s hand against the top of his head, and by now Corin is used to his lovers flustered exclamations of ‘you don’t have to’ or ‘I didn’t mean it like that.’ He doesn’t quite expect Dyn’s hand pushing him down, voice gruff as he says, “Go on then,” using his free hand he fumbles with his belt, and holds Corin at eye level with his concealed cock. Corin’s stomach thrills seeing Dyn is already growing hard just from anticipation — perhaps as excited by their argument as Corin had been himself. Dyn’s fingers thread through his hair, pulling harsh as he finally managed to free his cock. “Show me what you’re good for.” 

Corin’s cheeks burn and his eyes sting from the tight grip against his hair. He opens his mouth, eyes locked into Dyn’s exposed cock; held just in front of his waiting mouth — so close he can almost taste it — Dyn’s still gloved fingers stroking himself into complete hardness. 

“Well?” 

Corin lets out a whine, the sound escaping his throat without permission. He tries leaning forward — just a little bit more and he’ll have what he wants — but the grip in his hair tightens and he’s pulled back even further. 

When he looks up, Corin’s eyes are glassy and wide. He drags his tongue over his plump lower lip, a sigh escaping his chest. Corin has played this game before — absolutely loves it; his entire body thrumming with excitement and built up tension. 

“Dyn,” the word leaves his lips as a plea, dripping with desperation, “let me show you — let me be good for you.”

Dyn’s hand stills against his own dripping length. Every small tension in his body, every minute movement, tells Corin exactly how effective his words have been. Still Dyn manages to maintain composure; at least long enough to drag Corin’s head back, tilting him at a painful angle and forcing him to look right up. 

“Do you think you deserve it?” 

Corin smiles, and it’s a snarky little thing. His back is arched in this position and he spreads his legs to reveal his own budding erection. 

“No,” he gasps, shifting against nothing — shifting if only to feel the friction of fingers in his hair. “But I think you’ll give it to me anyway.” 

“Oh?” 

Corin feels the grip loosen just slightly, but doesn’t move — doesn’t dare break character. “Yeah,” and he’s breathing hard, hopelessly worked up over nothing, but still manages to spit out, “I think you want it just as much as I do.” 

Dyn groans above him, and he’s pressing forward — dragging Corin forward by the roots of his hair until the top is resting against Corin’s bottom lip. He holds Corin there, if only to draw it out a little longer; knowing they might not get another chance to play like this. 

“How could I not want you?” He asks, the tone of his voice contradicts the almost harsh treatment. “You look so pretty on your knees.” 

Corin squeezes his eyes shut tight. 

He wants it, just like this — wants Dyn to feed it to him, force it down his throat while he holds his mouth open for all he’s worth. Corin wants to feel the burn in the back of his mouth for the rest of the week; wants to remember this moment any time he tries to speak only to have his words crumble against his tongue.

He opens his mouth when prompted, embarrassed by the sound that escapes when he gets his first taste. The pain from his hair means nothing, as Dyn begins to push in far too slow. This isn’t how either of them want it — not how Corin needs it — and he wonders who is really being punished here. 

Corin almost screams when Dyn pulls back, tongue dragged out between his lips to follow the spit-slick head. It takes a deep breath to get himself under control, and he hears the same steadying breath shudder through Dyn’s body — watched with rapt attention as Dyn goes back to stroking himself far too slow. 

Corin thinks he might be losing it. Two weeks is hardly a long time, but he’s hardly had a moments rest, and even the wood floors beneath his knees is too much to process. 

“Dyn,” it’s a struggle to get the word out. Corin throws his gaze up towards the roof and begs strength from the stars. “Please, don’t make me beg.” 

“Would you?” 

Corin sees the tensing of Dyn’s hand, fingers tightening around the base of his thick cock. 

“Yes!” He agrees quickly, inching closer, squirming against the relentless hold on his hair. “Please Dyn, I want you — I want to be good for you. I’ll beg for you, I’ll do anything you want —” 

A sharp jerk of his head has Corin looking up into the visor. 

“Anything, is a dangerous promise,” Dyn’s hand comes to Corin’s mouth, thumb pulling against his bottom lip. “I might want you forever.” 

Corin sucks in a startled breath. 

“And I might let you keep me.”

The tension is thick between them, almost palpable through the dozen things that go unsaid. Corin can hear it buzzing in the back of his mind — wonders if it’s just the blurring edges of pain, or perhaps the itch in his throat that makes him think forever might just be a promise of its own. 

Corin opens his mouth to ask for more words, more secrets whispered out in the heavy space between them. Even if it’s lack of sleep that has Dyn so open and willing; Corin wants to hear it all. 

He opens his mouthful very same second that Dyn’s fingers release from his hair, and Corin doesn’t exactly forget the ache Growing colder in his chest, but he decides it can wait until they’ve both had their fill. 

As though just remembering they exist, Corin brings his hands up to ground himself. He rests one hand heavy against Dyn’s hip, shuffling forward in his knees — and he won’t be surprised when he finds bruises there later, but Corin can hardly remember the last time he could blame the pain in his body on something fun. He wraps his other hand around the base of Dyn’s cock, prying his own fingers away and leaving Dyn to lean heavy against the wall as he finally gets what he wants. 

Corin doesn’t have patience, and he doesn’t have self control. Not when it comes down to two weeks without a single reprieve — and he thinks it might be better if Dyn holds him back, but they’re too far beyond that point to stop. 

He fits his lips over the head of Dyn’s large cock, tongue dragging long and wet over the tip and drawing a stifled groan from above that seems to vibrate through Dyn’s entire body. He wants to take his time with it, savour the few moments of quiet they have together before morning comes and tears everything to shreds around them. Corin wishes he had more patience, even as he’s taking a deep breath, holding it tight in his chest and pushing forward to swallow down as much as he can before he starts to choke.

He holds himself steady, even as his throat clenches shut around the sick feeling boiling over in his stomach. The air never leaves his lungs, unable to breath around his mouthful and not for the first time, Corin thinks this might be the best way to die. He doesn’t think of it often enough — his life revolving more and more around avoiding death at any cost — but certainly if he had to choose — 

Dyn’s hand is back in his hair, soothing sounds leaving his throat as his fingers trace the line of Corin’s jaw. And this is where the turn comes — the urge to slow down, pace himself, the unspoken ‘you don’t have to’, as though every touch isn’t a fucking privilege Corin doesn’t recall earning. 

“Cyar’ika, you’re always so eager,” and it doesn’t sound like a bad thing, certainly note when Dyn’s fingers tighten around his jaw, forcing his mouth open wide and guiding Corin back towards his cock. “I don’t know what I did to deserve you.” 

Slowing down no longer seems like such a terrible thing. Corin lets his eyes skip closed and holds his mouth open, a shudder wracking his body when he feels the head of Dyn’s cock against his lip. He sticks his tongue out, breaths ragged as Dyn pushes into his mouth, pulling out just as quick. When he pushes in again Dyn drags Corin’s head forward to meet him, fucking into Corin’s willing mouth with shallow thrusts that barely have his cock reaching the back of Corin’s tongue. 

When his jaw begins to ache Corin lets his mouth fall shut and Dyn doesn’t pull out completely before pushing in even further; hips stuttering when Corin sucks hard, a moan vibrating from his chest all the way up his throat and sending sparks of pleasure through Dyn’s body. He can’t help what he does next, pulling Corin closet and thrusting roughly forward, striking the back of Corin’s throat and practically choking him. He doesn’t let up as Corin begins to gag, forcing him to swallow around the thick length.

”Fuck,” Dyn gasps, grinding forward as Corin’s throat begins to yield, letting him push inside even deeper than before. “Cyar’ika, you take me so well — you’re so good for me.”

Corin barely hears the words over the thrum of his own heartbeat where he feels it in his throat, but he feels the praise and adoration in the gentleness is Dyn’s touch — a stark contrast to the oppressive weight of Dyn’s cock restricting his breathing. 

His body is growing hot where he’s kneeling, burning up beneath his clothes, and if he doesn’t get a hand on himself he might just die. Corin thinks about shuffling forward, thinks briefly about bringing himself off against Dyn’s leg like a feral animal — wonders if the humiliation will outweigh the pleasure, or if Dyn will hold him back from the edge as punishment for pushing his luck. As it is he continues to rock his hips forward against nothing; legs spread wide to show where his cock is straining against his bed clothes, a damp spot forming against the dark material. 

As Dyn begins to pull back Corin wonders somewhat deliriously if he can cum just like this, without ever being touched; just the bare friction of his bed clothes against his aching length, and the burning pleasure of Dyn’s cock breaching his throat. 

Corin swallows down air like cool water on a scorching day. It burns through his body as his lungs struggle to keep up. Still he manages to pry his eyes open, gasping out broken speech between spit slick lips. 

“Dyn — please,” the ceaseless rocking of his body speaks loud enough for the desperation building low in his stomach. He plants a shaky hand against his abdomen, fingers clenching in the thin material of his shirt. His eyes are bleary, pin pricked with tears that trail down his cheeks as he blinks them away. 

Dyn continues to hold him still, gloved hand pumping steadily just in front of Corin’s still open mouth. He isn’t holding back — isn’t trying to draw it out any longer than he already had; hand working quickly over his hard length and fingers pressed too hard against Corin’s jaw.

”Please,” Corin repeats, uncertain exactly what he’s asking for. 

He tries to move forward but is held in place too strong, unable to move unless he were to put up a fight. He holds his tongue out, waiting, hand pressed firm against his stomach, finger just barely breaching the waistband if his pants. Testing his limits. Begging silently for something that was never restricted. 

“Corin,” his name spoken in a gasp, that strong hand slipping back into his hair, “show me — I want to see —” 

It doesn’t take more than that; Corin wriggled out of his pants and has a hand around himself in mere seconds. His breath escapes in a bitten face moan, the pressure of even his own hand, far too much to bare, and Corin thinks maybe if it hadn’t been two weeks — knows further down that this would happen regardless; he’s always lacked restraint, always needed Dyn to keep him in line. 

A smile twists the corners of his mouth and Corin is just about to say he won’t last another minute like this — and even a minute is too long to expect — but before he can get the words off his tongue he’s struck with the first taste of Dyn’s release. A painful tug on his hair keeps him in place as Dyn finishes across his face with a stifled groan. 

It’s enough of a shock that it sends Corin toppling over towards his own completion. He cums with Dyn’s name at the tip of his tongue, body burning with the taste and feel of him. Consumed. 

He comes down just as quick, burning pleasure leaving way for a dull ache that starts in his knees and shoots all the way up his spine. 

“Sorry,” Dyn says, fingers releasing as Corin drags a finger through the mess clinging to his cheek, licking it clean with a blissful sigh. 

“Don’t be.”

Later, Corin is undressed and helped into a steaming bath. He lets all the pain and tension melt off his body into the water, relaxing as Dyn sits at the edge of the tub, working the tangled out of Corin’s hair.   
  


“Did you mean what you said,” he asks, tentatively. 

“Forever?” Dyn hums, the sound rumbling through him. 

“If you’ll let me.”

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, this means they’ll probably have to get married now stay tuned for that one
> 
> Feel free to hit me up on @softdramahoe


End file.
